Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Panama and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing the Normal to the funk kids.
I played it at Trash.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Con Funk Shun. All the underground hits.
All Circle Jerks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bronski Beat record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eve St. Jones record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Shadows of Knight,
Josef K,
The Cramps,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Pierre Henry,
Youth Brigade,
Lindisfarne,
The Names,
Goldenarms,
Gregory Isaacs,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Heaven 17,
Barry Ungar,
Prince Buster,
Young Marble Giants,
The Modern Lovers,
Yellowson,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Bang On A Can,
X-Ray Spex,
Joensuu 1685,
Brand Nubian,
Arcadia,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Isaac Hayes,
Mandrill,
Hot Snakes,
Traffic Nightmare,
Reuben Wilson,
Black Moon,
John Lydon,
Scientists,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Marmalade,
Bobby Byrd,
the Association,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Danielle Patucci,
Panda Bear,
Half Japanese,
Massinfluence,
The Index,
Khruangbin,
The Litter,
David Axelrod,
Fluxion,
Ralphi Rosario,
Pere Ubu,
Wings,
Man Parrish,
The Cowsills,
Outsiders,
Eurythmics,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Don Cherry,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Toasters, The Toasters, The Toasters, The Toasters.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.